Apps That Actually Make Money™
A portfolio of side projects in various states of denial. Each one is two weekends from launch. It has been two weekends for two years.
~/realm $ whoami
Senior Proxy Orchestrator. Professional API Connoisseur. I command a fleet of residential IPs from a swivel chair and call it infrastructure.
I'm a self-taught terminal goblin who got into tech because clicking buttons felt slow. These days I spend my waking hours (all four of them) orchestrating proxies, poking endpoints, and quietly convincing myself the next app will actually make money.
On paper I'm a Senior Proxy Orchestrator. In practice that means I own more IP addresses than friends and I refer to my home router as a colleague. I treat Postman the way other people treat meditation apps: I open it daily, feel nothing, and keep coming back.
Confident? Wildly. Qualified? Debatable. But every endpoint I touch returns a status code, and that is more reliability than I get from my own sleep schedule.
Managing a fleet of residential proxies like a digital warlord. Each IP has a name, a region, and my undying emotional investment. If one rotates cleanly I weep with joy; if one gets flagged I observe a moment of silence.
Testing every endpoint in existence purely to feel something. GET, POST, PATCH, that cursed DELETE that returns 200 for no reason. My love language is a 201 Created and my toxic trait is reading the docs after.
Collecting API tokens the way dragons hoard gold. Bearer tokens, refresh tokens, one key I am 80% sure still works. My .env file is longer than most novels and considerably more frightening.
Climbing community trust levels like a competitive sport. I posted my way to a promotion, and the dopamine hit harder than any deploy. Trust Level 3 or I riot (politely, in the replies).
Aspirational. The theory is flawless: eight hours, blackout curtains, no screens. The practice is one more commit at 03:47 and a solemn promise to fix my schedule starting tomorrow, a tomorrow that never compiles.
Designing circuit boards I will never fabricate, in software I opened once for a newsletter. The traces are gorgeous. The board does nothing. This is, I am told, the engineering process.
My job title is "builder of apps that actually make money." My actual workflow is opening Postman, sending a request to an API I will never ship, admiring the response, and closing the laptop with the deep satisfaction of a job almost started. The monetization strategy is robust: it's called hope.
A portfolio of side projects in various states of denial. Each one is two weekends from launch. It has been two weekends for two years.
Hundreds of residential and ISP IPs, lovingly rotated. The only thing in my life with a working health check.
An exhaustive review of every endpoint I could reach. Brave. Bold. Unauthorized in three of them.
I have a Hong Kong problem, and the first step is admitting the price-drop notifications bring me more joy than most relationships. The moment a hotel dips three dollars, my phone buzzes, my heart races, and I am mentally already at the dim sum table arguing about who orders the har gow.